


Glass

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's not perfect, it'd never be. But it's something neither wants to lose. Ever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 2009 to Livejournal. I finally remembered to move it over.

They had been working on it for so long. It almost felt like millennia had gone by since that disturbing new idea surged on their minds –well, on one of their minds, while the other – oh, he wanted it for himself as well and he had done his best to cooperate, but there was something else, of course.

The door fell open with a deft twist of the knock deeply engraved into it – unlocked, which wasn’t anything uncommon in itself, but neither was this the right room. Stepping through the glass-padded corridor without stopping, without glancing sideways at the night outside, was simple; despite the way the small moon shone in contrast to one of the suns – gleaming beautifully against the dome-shaped capitol – it was nothing Rassilon hadn’t experienced before, and he shrugged the feeling aside. There was no time for this now.

And what a curious metaphor – that the lack of time had led them to this haste and the haste itself would lead to… well, he wasn’t absolutely sure about its consequences, only that he had to hurry.

There was another, newer door by the end of the pathway. It shone a light blue tone when Rassilon pressed his palm against the fair sized print scan by the side of it, and it buzzed affirmatively, sliding open within the moment it took it to recognize that hand as belonging to its High Lord President.

He needn’t doing it, but as a matter of fact; he didn’t need to be here either – that much was as clear as the room before him. Also clear was the increasingly obvious pressure on the back of his mental space, which naturally caused him to shake his head, a small annoyed frown settling on his lips.

Metallic appliances were scattered across what had once been a perfectly organized zone of Gallifrey’s library, wires connecting them and circuits seemingly glued to even the tiniest machine. Some of them burned brightly against the yellowed wall’s background, while others remained perfectly quiet, the only acknowledgement of their existence being the papers next to them – a hurried scribble doubtfully referring to their relative importance in relation to the others and to the plan. The one sound breaking the silence was a whistling noise that came from what resembled a teapot, and probably was one.

“Must you do this.” He spoke clearly, towards the interior of the room -- ignoring the fact that it seemed quite empty. Empty enough for him to settle by the little counter on a corner.

And sure enough, the response didn’t come from anything within its space but in the form of a buzz from one of the inter communicator devices installed on the walls. “Yes. Yes I must.” The artificial tone echoed almost coldly over the distance.

“You know that. I know that. Not to mention, it did work. So I see no reason for you to be concerned in the least.” But even in all its fakeness, it managed to carry some of Omega’s curtness over to the receiver.

Rassilon crossed his arms over his chest and looked down – the floor was tiled and adorned with deftly created patterns and shapes that beings seldom managed to understand, but that didn’t interest him now either. There was no time to be lost in pathetic reveries of puzzles and ancient times; no, there wasn’t. “It could not have.” He would have sighed, but a leader didn’t and he was the best leader there would ever be. “Do you even realize how very important you were to the development of that technology? Others could have done it.” And that sigh was so close – rasping through his throat.

But of course it was important to the Gallifreyans, to the planet. Not to each other, of course not. The mere idea would’ve been blasphemous in itself.

Silence followed, broken only by the soft hums of the device, though from the other side came only the rhythmic sound of breathing – restrained, timed to the second – and of the very occasional whisper of something being molded and manipulated. It didn’t usually go like this – any other moment could have him by Omega’s side, aiding the development of their projects – whereas since the war, these moments had greatly decreased in frequency. If Rassilon hadn’t known his friend this well and if it weren’t terribly unbecoming, he might have possibly said he was jealous. Since the end of the war, Politics had practically swept all of his time; he couldn’t spend days on end locked in the laboratories as they had done before.

It was a rather complicated sort of dilemma, actually. To continue with this quest of theirs and make it possible to time travel as fast as possible – or to do the opposite, spending said time fighting – they were almost pointless, weren’t they? Pointless little rules that still needed overcoming.

“And even if you do finish it. You know very well that, until the testing phase can begin, it will take a long amount of time,” he muttered, knowing that Omega was perfectly able to hear him, “considering that what you’ve created so far is still highly experimental.” And well, formalities aside, he wasn’t going to allow the other such a beginner’s mistake – even if they trusted each other’s skills perfectly.

He wouldn’t.

This time, there was an answer, but it wasn’t the half-distorted voice from before – on the contrary, a door smoothly slid open to reveal the entrance to yet another corridor, this one barely lit: a lone solar lamp guarded the way, shining only bright enough for Rassilon to see that the door on the side was open was, well, in an obvious invitation.

He could have entered these rooms before if he had wanted to. And now, even with the doors so blatantly open, he didn’t move. Not because he didn’t want to see Omega – no. But this game of wits was his field and it wasn’t something that he was about to lose, be his friend mindless or not.

“You’re not to do it again, not ever. The risk is too big and the reward not rewarding enough.” He finally put into words the thoughts that had been in his mind for so long, voicing them in a stern, admonishing tone as he stood still, unmoving either towards Omega’s room or to leave the establishment.

As he had predicted even before uttering the first syllable, the other’s reply came briskly in the form of a snarled sentence, something about rules and hierarchy and science - words that Rassilon would have paid more attention to if it weren’t for the fact that Omega was currently striding through the dimly lit passageway and that his eyes flashed a dangerous look as he most obviously stomped forward and closer, the doors snapping closed behind him with a nearly soundless clunk. That Omega was upset would have been undervaluing his feelings, but Rassilon wasn’t about to let it all go or to allow him to continue with that kind of dangerous game for this long.

When he stopped, Omega was only about a couple feet away from the shorter Gallifreyan, and practically glaring at him.

“How dare you, Rassilon. How –dare- you even suppose that. Am I not the best scientist Gallifrey has ever seen? The best engineer? And you still doubt my work?” Omega shook his head sharply. “That the possibility of it failing hadn’t been precisely calculated? Do you actually believe I hadn’t accounted for all the risk and knew no such thing would happen?” All in all, it was a fairly remarkable occasion, and he didn’t even try stopping himself from spitting the words, stopping in front of Rassilon only long enough to catch his breath – wheezing shakily for a moment, before very quickly striding back towards the rooms he’d been using previous to it all.

Rassilon was left – not exactly dumbfounded – no. This sort of situation happened enough times a week for so many years that he had grown used to it already. But he was definitely displeased with Omega’s behavior and, this time, he couldn’t quite hold back – nor did he try to stop – the painful sigh that racked its way through his throat. He would leave as well, obviously. The man was gone, probably locked to insanity in their lab and despite being able to break in at will, he didn’t particularly want to.

Without waiting for anything else to happen, he picked up a glass – one of the few without black lines ornamenting its surface – from one of the drawers by the counter and strolled by the kettle, serving himself some tea.

Relaxing and warm, that was how it was supposed to feel – that long since the dark times the ancient Gallifreyans had discovered the goodness of boiled golden leaves in water, and even through the revolution their customs hadn’t changed as much as to stop following these little bits of tradition. Yet, this was a very particular kind of frustration and one that even a nice cup of tea was unable to subdue. All Rassilon could do was leave – they’d talked and it hadn’t gone well, and while some of it may have been his fault (he didn’t really accept the possibility, but it was there nonetheless), it was not like he was about to turn around and beg for forgiveness, especially not when Omega was to blame as well.

Instead, he turned around, his long robes sliding along the floor as he walked back towards the one large entranceway door, his gaze dropping down toward the apparently dead control panel. It hadn’t been physically damaged, but it was as good as if it had.

\---

“Omega.” The words were spoken softly against the back of his neck, just barely audible and yet still clear enough to make some of his hairs stand on their ends as he shivered. “Omega.” And this time they were closer, just not close enough to touch.

It had been – well, the last time they had done something like this – something like what this could become, it had been a long time ago, after the end of the war, and it had been euphoric, a celebration of their victory, anything but slow, no, no, of course not – it had been fast and hot and ever so sweet and definitely nothing like this encounter was shaping up to be. And it had taken him a long time to notice, or at least to allow himself to notice it, but how he had longed for it.

Rassilon faltered, he didn’t quite press a palm against Omega’s shoulder, as the man still faced away, looking through the large windowed wall down at the citadel before them. He listened.

“How long has it been? Years? And you doubt me still?” The tone was nothing but bitter, wallowing in the sudden reflection of their relationship – as they saw each other in the mirror in front of them. “I’m not going to give up continuing with this, and it is all we ever done, of course, different circles. I never wanted to…” He trailed off for a moment, shaking his head. “No, it’s as it must be. But let me tell you. You can’t possibly stop my work, even if you –wanted- to.”

“Omega.” This time, Rassilon spoke up; finally closing the distance between them with a warm hand closing around the other’s, in a gesture that could have been to do with ensuing control, but really wasn’t. He didn’t drop it even when Omega flinched and pulled away. “Listen to me-“

The air of superiority, the way the words were carefully placed and lined in the most charming sequence, it was all there: but it was all wrong.

“No. I’ve listened to you for all of our lives, and you were indeed correct most of the time, but you aren’t now. I am perfectly qualified – as a matter of fact, I am the ONLY qualified Gallifreyan to have dealt with this sort of technology and you know that,” Omega hissed, pulling his hand away once again, and once again finding himself unable to free it. He really ought to have known better – to have known that when Rassilon wanted something, he wasn’t about to let it go without a fine struggle.

Which meant he wasn’t exactly expecting the words that followed.

“I know.” That was a surprise.

“I know that you are and that is exactly why you mustn’t do it by yourself any longer.” The other took one single step forward and suddenly his chest was pressing against Omega’s back, barely but definitely there, and it wasn’t something Omega could simply flinch away from. “It’s too dangerous.”

Unsaid remained the words of passion that they sometimes told each other in those rare nights when they slept together. That Rassilon would find it infinitely difficult to live – not to continue forward with their plans, but those were two very different constants – without his best friend by his side.

“It must be done,” came the answer, quietly slipping from Omega’s lips as he found himself leaning back. He seldom felt like trusting another in such an intimate and physical way, and Rassilon was the only one there would ever be, but sometimes, it was impossible not to find some sort of pleasure in this kind of act. Whereas he was a man of science, he wasn’t used to nor rejoiced in having another all over him – and that was definitely one of the reasons (though the weakest one; just the a little nuisance on the back of his mind) for him to find work solely in the laboratories.

Even during the revolution, where they had both fought; Omega had been very rarely found on the front lines, unlike Rassilon. But he was different, he was a people person, and that was another reason for why their companionship worked so well.

However, this was no time to think about such flimsy, psycho-theoretical conjectures. The bitterness in Rassilon’s tone was obvious, as was where he meant to go with this encounter.

“I know,” he said, breathing roughly against the back of Omega’s neck. Their challenging heights sometimes did prove of some use. “But not alone. I will do it myself, if I must.”

“And threaten your own life? Lord—” It was mocking and so very unserious, but he never did get to finish the sentence, because those lips that had been moving while Rassilon spoke, were now pressed against his skin and it had been –so long- since the last time this had happened, that Omega, despite desperately wanting to gain some control over himself and his body, found a small groan rushing up his throat. “Ah.”

“Yes, I would. But it would be not much better than for you to threaten your life.” He pulled back to speak, fingers tightening and squeezing Omega’s hand. “And now you understand my point, I should hope?”

“Indeed, I do.” Their politeness wasn’t a mere façade; it was one nonetheless but not one used to conceal their true intentions – that would have been so very utterly unnecessary. Especially when it was pointlessly obvious that Omega wasn’t pressing back against Rassilon and that the other’s tongue was just about to dart off again and dip down his neck.

“Hmm,” Rassilon hummed, “should you unlock these quarters or would you rather remain here?” The obvious was given, not only to decide their location but to decide whether this would happen or not. Omega had it all – in a way, he held the true power (at least over this situation): he could choose not to go forward with it, or to simply dismiss Rassilon, but he also held terribly high expectations. Because Rassilon wouldn’t have simply allow a lover of his to have his way unless he was way beyond a mere lover.

“I think these facilities are rather comfortable enough,” Omega said, and this time his voice was a bit more breathless and less controlled, “but they do lack a bed.”

“Agreed.” Of course. His library was just above this level and over it, towered the council rooms with his own private quarters – among them a master bedroom and that was definitely a possibility. “But there are teleports here, and I’m sure you do know at least one of them is connected to the council room. Wouldn’t you rather move there?”

He didn’t really give Omega the chance to answer, at least not in time, because his mouth moved down again, and there it was pressing right over his shoulder blade, through the exposed skin of his garments. But even if he had, the other found himself unable to answer, to do anything but to nod, and gasp as little waves of pleasure racked from his neck all throughout his body. It felt good, very, very good, but at the same time, it made it very obvious whom he’d attained his experience from – or rather, how many.

It lasted only a moment, with the next finding that Rassilon had moved forward and was now side by side with Omega, their hands still entwined together, squeezing.

“Very well.” He spoke in a slow, though very clear whisper. “Should we move upwards then?” And there was nervousness, even if it wasn’t currently present in his tone, there was the slightly arrhythmic pounding of his hearts inside his chest, and the lone bead of sweat scurrying down the side of his neck, and the ways his fingers felt warm, way too warm against Omega’s as he waited for the lights flicker on once again.

Which they did, rather quickly. Omega didn’t move, nothing besides the clenching of a hand and the sudden intake of breath, and then it was all back to normal: the land doors slid open with a smooth whisper of plastic against metal and the lamps burned away their gas-filled interiors, lighting the room with an artificial sort of blandness. The countless machines were brought back to life, stirring and buzzing even as the two persons who could definitely use them stepped inside the teleported field and disappeared.

\---

“I don’t—“ Omega breathed as he was pushed against the wall next to the bed, his arms finding support against it. There it was again, that sort of nervousness that seemed to jolt through his nerves and pull at his lungs so that it was –so difficult to breath-, or to speak. “Rass…”

“Yes, I know.” The other smiled against his collarbone, pressing himself close even through the many layers of fabric in between them. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve last done this. Too long, don’t you think?”

The room probably wasn’t what anyone else would have expected from this powerful of a leader – and if it weren’t for its privileged location, there would have been no reasons to believe it belonged to Rassilon himself. Whereas, it served its purpose very well, and neither the king-like bed nor the mildly extravagant decorations looked out of place.

But this time, Omega found control over his own body and raised an arm, placing it over Rassilon’s shoulder and matching the previous smile with one of his own. “Yes, it has.”

Perhaps those were the words that triggered them to move again as Rassilon repeated them against Omega’s skin. They practically scrabbled away from the mirrored wall and flopped onto the bed with a loud ‘oof’ as the shorter man landed over the other, successfully knocking him out of breath. It had been just an itty bit painful; yet, they both smirked when the mattress dipped considerably under their weight.

“Are you sure you still remember how to do it?” Rassilon teased in an uncharacteristically playful tone, one that he didn’t use with anyone else, as he moved his arm onto the other’s side so that he could support himself semi-upright against the bed and look up at Omega’s expression.

This was their hierarchy, one that he was fully aware would never change – with him under Rassilon; whereas, he didn’t really want to swap places with the ‘High Lord President’ either. Politics had never been Omega’s cup of tea, and they still weren’t – having to occupy a sit on the council’s meetings was anything but a bore, though one he kept on withstanding only because of Rassilon.

Sex didn’t exactly mimic their political rendezvous; it went way beyond that and had an added quality that deciding which laws to veto or not would never have: that he felt… well, loved would be the right word. Despite their almost constant scuffles, when it came down to this – ah, it was something they were sure both enjoyed – loved, even.

“Do you?” Omega countered mildly, using his most powerful weapon to match Rassilon’s advances: words. “I will have to see if—ah,” He shifted back, closer to the headboard and the few pillows resting that side, and pulling the other man with him, “You’re still good at it.” The sentence left his lips in a hurried huff of breath as he lay down there.

Afterwards, they might have wondered if this was – once again – the right way to go with it; but right on that moment, it would have been torture for Rassilon to try and stop his actions; after all, Omega looked… well, he looked –good-, for the lack of richer words, with his deep blue eyes flashing down and the blond hair splayed across the white of the fabric below. Oh, he was certainly lucky to have found such a good, long lasting friendship in someone like Omega.

“Is that doubt I hear in your words, Omega?” he mocked shallowly, as he pulled back just enough to climb a little higher on the bed, over the other’s body, just enough for his mouth to find the side of his face. “I thought you would have known better… after all these years.” And he pressed a soft, chaste kiss onto the man’s cheek, lingering over it for a moment before drawing down, running his lips down Omega’s jaw and the side of his neck.

No, of course not. That was the very reply that Omega bit down on when his friend’s fingertips found the inside of his thighs, dipping right through the fabric of their – rather oppressive, one could say – garments, and pressing down on the skin. “No.” A gasp fell from his lips as those same digits rubbed circles right next to his – oh, yes was definitely aroused by now – which, truth be told, wasn’t something that happened often, or at least not often enough for him not to remember each unique time.

It wasn’t slow and bittersweet, but neither was the whole encounter fast and rushed as it had definitely been before. It followed a tempo of its own. Rassilon bent down and pressed his lips, somewhat gently against the side of Omega’s collarbone before sliding away again, and standing with his knees at each side of the other’s body, observing the blond Gallifreyan who lay, very flustered, over the sheets. Perhaps once upon a time, in a planet they both claimed to understand above anything else, this might have been an almost unreal vision, and their actions might have been tinted with the shyness of their youth. And now, these times were gone, and matching Rassilon’s tenderness was his own kind of forcefulness.

And then, he wasn’t alone in his actions, because for every thrust and push and kiss, Omega replied by biting down on his lower lip to prevent him from crying out, and arched his back, heels pressing right against Rassilon’s back and head thrown back so close to the headboard that he had to almost stop himself before they both crashed against it while their minds seemed to mingle in one another. It was comforting, to a certain degree, to be able to simply melt inside and for one second – one moment in years – to forget about the constant pressures of the life they both led, and he relished in it, allowing himself to go as far as possible, before drawing back as white, hot bliss overcame them.

Afterwards, Rassilon found his way through their mess of limbs and fabric and moved to lay his forehead against Omega’s shoulder, breath tight and hot over the skin there, tongue slowly – mindlessly -- dragging itself across the salty expanse. They didn’t speak, but neither did they need to: for even when their bodies had caved in to exhaustion, they remained very firmly entwined through their minds and that was a never ending dance and this time, it wasn’t Rassilon the one excelling at it: Omega’s eyes flickered briefly open, all shine and blue and cornflowers, and his muscles relaxed from their recent relief. He took a deep breath and dove right back in.

\--

A single ray of light, filtered through the citadel’s dome and the glass on the window outside, was cast over Omega’s eyes. He didn’t quite yawn as fast as he sat up, a hand brushing over the mussed locks. It wasn’t the realization that he should have been working, that it was late enough for some of his assistants to try finding him that first made its way through his – somehow unusually shaky mind. No of course not, that was of relative importance.

But the way the bed sheets were neatly folded and that he was completely, and utterly alone.


End file.
